


Smart Mouth

by SpookyHoodlum



Category: Oliver & Company (1988)
Genre: Age Difference, Complicated Relationships, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-19
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-07 15:09:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10363242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpookyHoodlum/pseuds/SpookyHoodlum
Summary: In which Sykes finds himself taken with a client's adult daughter and volatile chemistry happens. I don't know, I'm terrible at summarizing.





	1. Angela from Bensonhurst

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Any Disney characters and references are the property of Disney and not me. Angela Dvorak and any non-Disney characters are mine.
> 
> I know what you must be thinking, dear reader. 'Why in the hell would anyone write a story about Mr. Sykes, let alone a romantic one?' And it's true, Sykes is not the best villain Disney has to offer, just like Oliver and Company is not that great a movie. So why expand on this particular character? The answer to that is simple: Because I wanted to. I mostly wrote this for me, because I got the idea and decided to roll with it, and because I find Sykes fascinating as a character. There's so much we don't know about him, so why not fill in some of those blanks?
> 
> And don't get me wrong, I felt conflicted writing this, it sounds like such a silly concept, but let's put it into perspective. All over the Internet there is fanart and fanfiction featuring Disney characters doing all matter of graphic, perverse, fetishistic sexual acts. Shit that sometimes if not often involves underage minors and animals. It's Rule 34 at it's worst, if you ask me. 
> 
> A more realistic story about a lesser-known Disney villain and his relationship with a younger woman is nothing compared to all that. It's not a sexually explicit story, and my fan character Angela Dvorak is a legal, consenting adult in her twenties and she always has been since her conception as a character. 
> 
> Also of note, this takes place in about late 1986, about two years before the events in Oliver and Company.

Smart Mouth

Chapter 1  


It was nearing the end of a long, slow day. Bill Sykes had stopped into one of his usual haunts to relax with a drink before his last appointment. It was his usual table, of course. It was rarely occupied whenever he came by and if it was, it didn't stay occupied. The air itself seemed to tense whenever he entered the room, and with good reason. Sykes was a six-foot-four concrete wall of a man, as physically imposing as he was charismatic. Despite the slow day he was in a decent mood, which certainly benefited the people around him, and more so because the peaceful atmosphere didn't last long.

There was a commotion near the front door accompanied by the reedy voice of Marco the maitre'd.

“Miss, you can't just walk in here- _miss!”_  
  
“I just need to speak to someone, it won't take a minute.” The source of the commotion was heading right for him; some tall brunette he didn't recognize. She opened her mouth just as two waiters grabbed her by the arms. Marco swooped in to play crowd control, assuring nearby patrons that nothing was wrong. The scrawny man had too many teeth in his mouth and a voice that suggested he came out of the womb kissing ass.  
  
“I'm _so_ sorry for the disturbance, Mr. Sykes, it won't happen again.”  
  
Sykes didn't respond, looking at the girl who barged in. She tried to wriggle lose from the waiters' grasp, looking around Marco at Mr. Sykes. “Listen, I just need to talk to you! I'm not trying to start anything.”  
  
Marco turned to glare at her. “You've caused enough trouble already, young lady, and if you barge in here like that again-”

“It's fine, leave her alone.” Sykes finally deigned to speak, despite the entertainment. “She's with me.”  
  
“Oh! Well, then, Mr. Sykes, if there's anything else you require, don't hesitate to ask.” Marco oozed, with another grin full of piano teeth. Sykes wondered if he knew his face looked like that. He always would love to punch him in the gut.

The two waiters let her go and Marco gave her another glare before slinking off to micromanage something else. The young woman scowled and flipped the bird at his back before turning back to Sykes.  
  
“Sorry about that,” She adjusted her leather jacket. “I didn't mean to make a scene of this.”

  
He didn't answer, only looked her up and down, sizing her up. She was tall with messy dark curls and big hazel eyes; kind of pretty. Nobody he recognized, now his curiosity was piqued. People had stormed in demanding to see him before, but they rarely stayed long. He was in a generous mood tonight.  
  
Sykes gestured to the empty chair across the table. “Have a seat.”

  
The brunette nodded and took the offered seat. “I won't take up too much of your time.” She started.  
  
“Good.” He reached inside his suit jacket for a fresh cigar. “What's this all about?”  
  
“It's about Arnie Buckley, one of your debtors.”  
  
Oh, another one of these. A concerned relative coming to beg for mercy on behalf of some schmuck who owed him a debt. Arnie Buckley was in the same vein as Marco, a sniveling beta male who was always sucking up to somebody for the tiniest amount of respect. Arnie was pathetically begging for more time last night, about how he had a wife and an eight year-old girl at home. Sykes gave him forty-eight hours more only to shut up his blubbering. He was a nice guy, after all. He told Arnie if he didn't want to leave behind a widow then he better pay up.

He spoke around his cigar as he lit it. “I see. And you are?”  
  
“Arnie's my stepfather-”  
  
“No no, I'm asking your _name,_ honey.”  
  
His patronizing tone made those hazel eyes narrow. “Angela, and I'm not your 'honey.'”

“Ohh, so _you're_ little Angela.” Sykes leaned back in his seat with an amused smirk. “You're tall for an eight year-old. How old are you really? Nineteen, twenty?”  
  
She sighs. “What did he tell you?”  
  
“Some sob story about a little eight year old daughter and a wife at home. Trying to play to my sensitive side.” Sykes chuckled at his own joke and puffed on his cigar.  
  
“Oh my god, he _would_ , that fucking liar.” Angela groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose, even though she wasn't surprised.  
  
“Set my facts straight, then.”  
  
She leaned her elbows on the table and propped her chin up on her hand. “It's simple. He's my stepfather, I'm twenty-four, and my mother died two years ago.”  
  
Sykes felt a spark of ire and made a mental note to have a little _talk_ with Arnie about honesty. “I'm sorry to hear that. And what exactly is your reason for approaching me? You do realize I can't just cut your old man a break here, I've been more than generous already. I'm a business, not a charity.”  
  
Angela sighed and ran a hand through her hair. “I hate to say it, but I want to work out a way to bail the idiot out. He's been living in my house and mooching off me and he's been trying to sell off my mom's old things. _Now_ I think he's planning on skipping town, and if that happens I don't want anyone coming after me or my kneecaps. So, here I am.”  
  
“You don't say.” His jaw clenched, but he kept his temper in check. Lying was one thing, but trying to get out of it all together? That was punishable and Arnie would answer for it. Angela just saved him a lot of trouble whether she meant to or not.  
  
“Mind if I smoke?” Without waiting for an answer she took a pack of Newports out of her pocket and used the candle on the table to light up. Sykes was beginning to find her oddly charming. If she was afraid of him, she didn't show it. She sat up straight and looked him right in the eyes when she spoke.  
  
“So,” He picked up his neglected glass of scotch and settled back into his seat. “What did you have in mind?”  
  
“I have a house in Bensonhurst, it's old but in good shape. I could sell it and the money from that could cover most of what he owes you, if not all of it.” She shrugged. “I dunno, does that sound workable?”  
  
“Hmm.” He tapped the ash off his cigar.“I'm surprised your old man hadn't tried it.”  
  
“He couldn't, Mom transferred the title to me before she died.” She blows a plume of smoke out the side of her mouth. “And if you think Arnie's that clever, you think too highly of him.”  
  
“You got me there.” He chuckled at that remark. He liked her moxie, if she was a young man he might have offered her a job. “Well it's a good idea to start with.” He checked his watch. “Unfortunately, I have an appointment to make right now. We'll have to continue this discussion at a later date.”  
  
“Very well.” She stubbed out her cigarette and stood up from her seat. Marco was watching from a distance like he expected her to stuff the silverware in her pockets. “Thank you for your time.”  
  
He grinned and stood as well, holding out a hand. “My pleasure, Miss...?”  
  
“Dvorak.” She returned the handshake with a firm, confident grip, even though his hand nearly swallowed hers.  
  
“Miss Dvorak. Good to meet you, I'm sure this will be a transaction that benefits the both of us.”  
  
She shrugged, folding her arms over her chest. “I'm just protecting my own ass, Mr. Sykes.”  
  
“Indeed. Here's my card.” He produced a white business card and handed it to her. “We'll be in touch.”  
  
“Hmm, all right.” She glanced at the card before pocketing it. “I better clear out before that maitre'd bursts a blood vessel glaring at me.” She huffed a laugh before turning on her heel.

It was sad to see her go but Sykes enjoyed watching her leave. She made a point to maintain eye contact with Marco as she passed him, demurely scratching her nose with her middle finger. Sykes dropped some cash on the table and made his way to the phone in the back. He had the number memorized.  
  
“Hey, Louis, it's me. You busy? ...Good. I need you to check someone out. Remember Buckley? ...Yeah, his _stepdaughter_ just approached me wanting to help him out. Her name's Angela Dvorak, said she lives in Bensonhurst. Should be easy enough for you right? ...Atta boy. All right, I have to go, you know where to reach me.” He hung up and straightened his tie as he headed for the door. In a day or two, he would have what he needed and then he would get in touch with her. Knowledge was power in this business. 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Deals and Boring Details

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know the rule is 'show, don't tell' but this particular part of the story is dull as fuck and hard to write so I won't bore you with it. The deal is overall not that important to the story.

Smart Mouth  
Chapter 2  
  


  
Louis turned up a week later with a report; the gist of it being she told the truth about who she was. She worked in a diner in Gravesend. Late mother was a police officer, no sign of a biological father, no noticeable ties to her mother's old associates. Sykes would have been really ticked off if it turned out to be some kind of sting. He liked the young woman; unafraid to look him in the eye despite who he was and who she wasn't.  
  
Arnie was not thrilled to learn what Angela had done. One screaming match later and Angela had all but chased him out of her house and told him he better not come back if he knew what was good for him. He remained in town for now but Sykes was keeping eyes on him. Even if this deal with Angela worked out, the man had a price to pay for lying to him and breaking their contract.

Meanwhile, Sykes had a couple friends in real estate who owed him a favor or three, so he called them first. The idea was to dress the house up, make any necessary repairs, a few new coats of paint, up the value of the place. The resulting sale would be more than enough to pay back the renovation expenses and what Buckley owed him. Simple as that. Sykes considered calling the little weasel and telling him to thank his lucky stars his stepdaughter had a brain. Nah, let him stew for now. Let him think he was almost off the hook. As for Angela, it took some convincing but it was less messy for her to just sign over ownership. After she took care of what she had to do, she moved out within two weeks.

Sykes was not completely satisfied yet. This brought Arnie cowering before him, Roscoe and DeSoto circling like sharks. Angela had unwittingly saved this man's life. The plan wasn't to kill him, no. Just to make him suffer, put the fear of God into him and make him think twice before trying to cheat someone like him.  
  
He slowly exhaled smoke. “I'm not happy, Arnie. A little birdie told me you were not only lying to me, but you were planning on skipping town. That hurts me, Arnie. You know what happens when someone hurts my feelings?”  
  
“Whoa, hey, you got it all wrong, Sykes!” The man's eyes bugged out and his hands flapped around uselessly. “I, I was doin' it so I could go and get the money I owed you, I had this opportunity, see-”  
  
Sykes shook his head and tsk'd at him, like scolding a child. “That wife you had waitin' for you is dead. That cute little eight year-old you cried at me about is a grown woman and she's not even your daughter. …She can't be since she's got half a brain, and that's twice more than you have. So why should I believe anything you tell me?”  
  
He had no answer for that. Sykes sighed and shook his head.  
  
“It's a real pity, Arn. I was starting to like you.” He snapped his fingers and the dogs lunged in a flash of fur and white teeth. Arnie Buckley would live, but now he'd think twice.  
  


A week later he was rolling through Brooklyn, keeping an eye out for Angela. He'd tried to call her all that time, but whenever she heard his voice she hung up so fast he was sure he heard the receiver slam. If she was going to be stubborn like that, he'd come to her. She would be getting out of work by now.

There she was, loping down the street in a green raincoat, her shoulders up by her ears. People fled indoors in this kind of weather, so it was mostly just the two of them as he pulled up, rolling the window down.

  
“Looks like you could use a ride.” He kept one hand on the wheel, coasting alongside her as she kept walking.  
  
“I'm _fine._ ” She didn't even glance in his direction, continuing to walk. She stamped through a puddle even though it soaked through her sneakers.  
  
The car crawled right along with her. “You don't look it. Come on, let me drive you home.”  
  
_“No thank you.”_  
  
She stepped off the curb and he quickly rolled around to block her path.  
  
“Just get in the car, Angela.” His tone left little room for argument.  
  
She fixed him with that look, the one he liked. Perhaps that was what he liked most about her; nerves of steel. Grown men trembled in his presence and she didn't even flinch. She glared at him a moment longer before opening the door and sliding in, closing it with a little more force than necessary.  
  
“Atta girl.” He rolled up the windows as he drove off.  
  
Angela tugged down the hood on her wet raincoat and ran a hand through her damp hair. The heat was on so she rubbed her hands over the vents. “I didn't think guys like you drove themselves anywhere. They usually have people for that.”  
  
Sykes only chuckled. “Not me, I like to drive.”  
  
“Hm. You mind if I smoke in here?” She knew it was a dumb question considering his own lit cigar.  
  
“Be my guest.” He kept his eyes on the road but he could hear the clicking of a lighter and her grumbling. Ever the gentleman, Sykes reached into his pocket and wordlessly offered his own. There was a pause and her fingers brushed his as she took it.  
  
“Thanks.” She lit up and handed it back, leaning against her seat. “So, is following me your new hobby?”  
  
“I was in the neighborhood.”  
  
“Right. In all of Brooklyn you just _happened_ to be in my town, five blocks away from where I live. Ain't that a fuckin' bit of serendipity.”  
  
“I'm sensing some hostility towards me.” He smirked.  
  
“I think you know why.” She stared out the window as she spoke, exhaling through her nose.  
  


Unfortunately, he did. Sykes sighed and shrugged his shoulders. “Look, I had to teach Arnie a lesson. We made a deal, he can't just try to skip town and fuck me out of my money.”  
  
“But you _got_ your money.”  
  
“Only because you stepped in and offered something I could use. That deal was made with you, not him. Besides, I thought you didn't give a rat's ass about him.”  
  
“That doesn't mean I wanted him in the emergency room!” Angela irritably raked a hand through her hair again. “I can't help but feel responsible, the only reason you knew about that is because I told you!”

 

Sykes pulled over to the curb in front of her building. “All right, look, I can make it up to you. I'm not such a bad guy.” He stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray. “I take care of my friends.”  
  
Angela scoffed.“We're friends?”  
  
“I like to think so. After all, you helped me out. Saved me a lot of trouble in the long run.”  
  
“I didn't do it for you-” She started, Sykes held up his hand to signal he wasn't done speaking.  
  
“I know. You wanted to make sure nobody was coming after you because of him. You were looking out for yourself and making sure Arnie didn't fuck you over. I understand, hell, I respect that, but what happened to Arnie, he brought it upon himself.”  
  


She didn't respond, staring at the glowing end of her cigarette. He was a dangerous man and that kind of 'friend' made people wary. If people saw her associating with a man like him, it might not bode well for her. If someone like Bill Sykes thought of her as a friend, what did that make her? What kind of person was she for enjoying these back and forth conversations with him? Angela decided it was easier to change the subject.

  
“You still didn't tell me why you 'just happened' to be in the neighborhood.” Angela took another drag off her cigarette and then stubbed it out in the ashtray as well.  
  
“Ah, yes. I have something for you, actually.” He reached into his jacket and produced an envelope, holding it out to her. “I hope this makes up for my terrible behavior.”  
  
Angela took it with a curious frown and opened it. There was a decent amount of bills inside, all in twenties. “...What is this.”  
  
“That's your cut of the sale.” Sykes replied as if it was obvious.  
  
Angela didn't count the money but a list was already formed in her head of what she could do with it. She shook her head and those thoughts out of it. “No way, I can't accept this.” She tried to hand the envelope back but he just laughed.  
  
“Don't be silly,” He pressed it back into her hands. “You earned it. Like I said, I take care of my friends.”  
  
“This wasn't part of the deal.” She insisted, still holding the envelope out, even though he didn't move to take it back.  
  
“Of course not, it's a gift.”  
  
She made an exasperated noise. “Then I _really_ don't-”  
  
_“Angela,”_ He feigned a hurt tone of voice, a hand over his heart. “you're hurting my feelings.”  
  
Angela almost laughed at that. Hurting his feelings would be like trying to break down a brick wall with a Styrofoam bat. She admitted defeat and put the envelope in her pocket. “Fine, if you insist. Thank you, Mr. Sykes.”  
  
He grinned. “We're friends, aren't we? Call me Bill.”  
  
“I'd rather not. Thanks for the ride.” She swiftly exited the car and jogged up the steps to her building while he lingered and watched her go.|

This wouldn't be their last meeting, not if he had anything to do with it. He wouldn't admit giving her the money in person was partially an excuse to see her again. It couldn't be helped, there was just something about her. He wanted to get inside that head of hers and learn what made it tick. It helped that she was easy on the eyes, but it didn't help he couldn't get her out of his mind. Whether she was just a brief amusement or not, he didn't know, not yet. For now, he would bide his time and see how this all played out. He was a patient man, after all.  



End file.
